


Storm

by EmmyRK



Category: Open Heart (Visual Novels)
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Meetings, Hospitals, Medical Conditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27358753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyRK/pseuds/EmmyRK
Summary: When her patient begins to deteriorate after a standard procedure, nurse Emily Chapman must put a past encounter with a handsome stranger behind her as she works with Edenbrook Hospital's most ornery attending physician: Dr. Ethan Ramsey.
Relationships: Ethan Ramsey/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	Storm

Rubber wheels grind across waxed tiled floors as sudden outbursts of indiscernible voices carry down long stagnant corridors. The analog alarms and rhythmic beeps of machines and pumps compliment the numbing hum of the unforgiving florescent lights. There's a waft in the air of aseptic solutions and earthy, bodily scents, an odor that can easily be described in one word: hospital.

Saturday nights in the medical world can go two different ways: boringly slow with little activity, or insanely busy with bizarre medical cases. Unfortunately for Edenbrook's Birthing Center, the latter is proving true tonight.

Keeping a vigilant watch on her patient and her patient's heart and breathing monitors, floor nurse Emily Chapman pulls a quick swig of her now-lukewarm americano. She quickly gathers the fallen wisps of Autumn gold from her bun, and clips them back into place. With a simple swipe of her favorite coconut and pear lip balm, she jumps back into the swing of recovery. As she washes her hands at a nearby sink, she steals a quick peek at the wall clock.

_Damn, it's almost midnight. How long have we been in here?_

The seasoned nurse started her shift running when she was assigned to care for Megan Beauregard, a laboring patient who's baby was showing signs of distress. Despite multiple interventions, Dr. Victoria Livingston, the head of the obstetrics department, strongly recommended an emergent cesarean section for the first-time mother.

The surgery was successful, and once finished, Emily transferred Megan to the post-anesthesia care unit for close observation. But, within minutes, the new mom's status quickly deteriorated; her vital signs became unstable, and the cause was not apparent. With an unremarkable history and relatively normal labs, the obstetric and anesthesia staff were left perplexed, placing a consult into the on-call intensivist.

While she waits for the specialist, Emily now remains at Mrs. Beauregard's bedside in PACU, assisting her through an extended recovery process until she either proves to be stable or that she needs a higher level of care in the intensive care unit.

During another full-body assessment, Emily carefully inspects the sedated patient and her vital signs. Her incision is textbook-perfect, and her postpartum bleeding is light. The nurse warms up the bell of her stethoscope in her hands before placing it meticulously on the new mom's chest. As she listens to the lub-dub of her heart, Emily gently feels the throbbing of the patient's pulse in her thin wrists. She quickly turns her attention to the bedside EKG monitor.

_Damnit, Megan. 162. Still tachy. Your heart rate was in the 140's an hour ago._

Pushing aside several drenched strands of her thick raven black hair, Emily softly strokes Megan's clammy forehead with a thermometer.

_Seriously? 104.8? That gram of acetaminophen should be working by now. What the hell?_

The nurse wipes down her pink stethoscope as she observes the wave patterns of the patient's breathing and heart rhythm. Drying her freshly cleansed hands, she chews on the sides of her mouth as her concern for Megan grows substantially. She pages the on-call specialist with the sudden changes.

With a few clicks of the computer mouse, Emily opens the medical record to observe current and previous labs. She jots down a few notes as she takes a few more tender swigs of her venti espresso mix, preparing for the attending's callback.

She sighs, wrinkling her forehead as she drums her pen on the workstation. Suddenly, she notices subtle movement from the stretcher. Relief washes over her: Megan is waking up. Maybe talking with her would give more clues of what's happening to her.

"Mrs. Beauregard? Can you hear me?" Emily calls out as she approaches the stretcher.

The post-cesarean section's eyes flutter open, attempting to focus on the gentle, cheerful voice interrupting the hypnotic orchestration of buzzing monitors, monotone beeps, and clanging alarms.

"Hey, Megan! We're all done."

"Where--where am I?" Her voice is weak, strained from the intubation of her emergency operation. Her lips are chapped, the dryness of her mouth audible as she smacks her lips to speak.

"We're in the post-anesthesia care unit. Your surgery went very well."

The drowsy, new mother rolls her head to the side, closing her eyes. She instinctively grazes her hands across her abdomen.

Her eyes pop frantically open, panic coursing through her veins like fire.

_"Where's my baby?"_

"Baby Mia is doing very well. Your husband is with her in the neonatal intensive care--"

_"Where am I?"_ Her voice amplifies with concern. She locks her piercing hazel eyes with the young blonde in scrubs at her beside, her eyebrows furrowing. "And, who are you?"

"I'm Emily, your nurse. Remember me? From earlier? In your room?"

Megan shakes her head in confusion, her eyes growing wildly large as she begins to tug at her monitor cables and IV lines.

_"Megan!"_ The nurse cautions, firmly bracing her hands on the patient's arms. "You're okay! Just calm down."

_"You stole my baby! I know you did! HELP!_ "

As the struggle turns more physical, Emily calls for help, initiating a hospital team that responds to sudden changes in a person's condition. As the patient rears herself violently from the bed, hissing and screaming at the staff, trained medical professionals act instantly, chemically sedating her. Though they are a quick fix, the medications won't last long. But for now, they bought more time.

With Mrs. Beauregard soundly sleeping again, medical professionals that were called to assist begin to leave the PACU. Emily slumps in her chair, rubbing her forehead.

_"What's going on with you, Megan?_ " she mutters under her breath. _"Where did you go?"_

Dr. Livingston places her hand on Emily's shoulder.

"I'm going to head out to my callroom. If you need anything else, just page me." She looks around the room with confusion. "Um, they did page the intensivist, right?"

Emily's eyes widen. "Oh gosh, I don't know if they did or not." She clicks through her phone log. "I actually paged the on-call intensivist well-before Megan ever woke up. They didn't answer."

"About her worsening vital signs?

"Yes, ma'am."

Dr. Livingston sighs, her irritation written on her exhausted face.

_"Fucking doctors,"_ she whispers under her breath as she rolls her eyes; Emily stifles her chuckle. "Okay, so page the on-call intensivist again."

"But what if--"

"They don't answer?" she interrupts, her words become threatening. "Page me, and I will gladly take care of them myself." Dr. Livingston leaves, shutting the PACU door.

_Back to the drawing board, I guess, right, Megan?_

Emily follows Dr. Livingston's instructions; but, rather than paging directly, she calls the hospital's paging service.

_"Edenbrook Hospital. Which doctor do you need?"_

"Uh, yes. My name is Emily in labor and delivery. I need to page the on-call intensivists please--oh! And, um, can you tell me who it is?"

After a brief silence, the operator returns to the line.

" _It looks like it's Dr. Ramsey this evening--"_

_Oh, God, don't say it. Please. Don’t say, ‘Ethan Ramsey.’ Please. Anyone but him…_

_"--Dr. Ethan Ramsey. I'll send out the page."_

_Fuck me._

##  **************

Emily finger-combs her hair before placing it back up into a high, messy bun. She restlessly bounces her crossed leg as she listens to the annoyingly cheerful hold music of the symphonic production of _"Jesus Christ, Superstar"._ This was her third time paging the on-call intensivist with no avail. She wasn't ready to give up just yet; plus she really didn't want to experience the wrath of kind-hearted Dr. Livingston.

_"Damnit! Just answer your page, Dr. Prick!"_

Hearty chuckles fill the bustling nurse's station.

_"Oh, boy, lucky you. Ramsey must be on-call this weekend, huh?"_ Emily's colorful charge nurse tosses her head back, cackling as she leaves the central desk.

_Better than being the on-call douche bag at Donahue’s..._

_"Em, I'll trade you assignments!"_ jokes another colleague.

_"Oh no!"_ a newer nurse walks up with concern in her voice. _"What's wrong with your assignment?"_

Emily cordially shakes her head with a smile, but before she can even answer, everyone continues to banter back and forth about the provider.

_"She gets to deal with Dr. McSteamy tonight? Lucky--"_

_"Seriously, girl, he's so fucking hot!"_

_"Mhmmm… he's a tall drink of water!"_

_"Is he still single?"_

_"I heard he was screwing an intern!"_

_"He's always screwing an intern--"_

_"Ha! And the rest of the diagnostics team!"_

Laughter roars from the nurse's station as Emily blushes, covering her face with her hands.

_"Have you seen the cut on him? Even his scrubs leave little to the imagination!"_

_"Oh God, those eyes--"_

_"The eyes!"_ Several nurses knowingly sing-song.

_"Forget the eyes! What about that hair?"_

_"I want to run my fingers through that hair, grip on tight, and ride his face until I--"_

_"Whoa!_ " Emily hastily silences the conversation, jokingly putting her fingers in her ears. "Have you guys forgotten that he is an absolute nightmare to work with?"

_And nightmare outside of work…_

"He's rude and self-centered."

_Especially when he leaves you alone. In a bar. Rejected._

"He thinks he's the god of Edenbrook, when in reality he is worse than Satan himself! He's a complete _asshole_!"

A throat clears behind them in the hallway.

_"I believe incompetent nurses needing their hand held by a 'rude and self-centered', ‘complete asshole’ attending refer to me as Dr. Ramsey."_

The other nurses grab their clipboards and slink away from the central charting area, leaving Emily to face her wrathful fate. She hesitantly turns towards the deep, baritone voice.

He staggeringly towers a good foot above her short frame. His frosty blue eyes painfully pierce deeply into hers as she abruptly loses all train of thought. He slowly, purposefully steps towards the young nurse, arms crossed with a matching scowl. Her mouth gapes open as his plump pout enchants her. The faint scent of bergamot and citrus hangs in the air, overwhelming her focus with the memories of the tall, sweet stranger she met last weekend at Donahue’s. 

> She sat alone at the rustic, splintered bar, milking a stiff drink while shooting a shot of tequila; she clearly was on a pursuit to get somewhere. He was never the type to pick up women at a bar, but there was something about her that intrigues him, something about her that robs his attention. Her platinum waves carelessly cascaded down her back. Her velvety, porcelain skin boasted a hint of pink on her high cheek bones. Her smile, a beautiful rosy smile, never seemed to disappear with the harmonious, cheerful laugh. Everytime her head tosses back with delight, a sweet, subtle mix of peony and lily floral notes danced effortlessly with citrus into the air. She wore a simple black linen romper that happily, but gracefully hugged her voluptuous curves. She was divine, and he couldn't help himself.

> _"Excuse me? Is this seat taken?"_

> She twirls around on the bar stool as she sips her Diet Coke and rum. From head-to-toe, she drinks in the tall handsome stranger. He's neat, almost too clean-cut. With a strong jawline and a stern face to match, his thick, dark hair is casually swept back. His olive-green henley fits perfectly across his fit physique; with the sleeves neatly rolled to his elbows, the fabric gently pulls snug over the contours of his muscles as he moves. The distressed denim of his jeans slouch perfectly on his cut hips.

> She sets down her drink, furrowing her brows.

> "I'm sorry." She wrinkles her nose. "It is."

> _"It is?"_ His eyebrows raise in shock as his face flushes with embarrassment. "Oh, well, um, I--" he stutters as he rubs the back of his neck.

> She offers a soft giggle while she nudges the bar stool with her foot in his direction.

> "It’s taken now. _By you_."

> He can't help being charmed by her goofy sense of humor; he chuckles to himself as he pulls the stool closer to her, taking a seat.

The night left her hurt, but seeing him again still makes her knees buckle as her heart skips a beat.

"You paged?"

"Hmmm… I paged?" Emily's voice is melodically husky, but after hearing her own seductive tone, she clears her throat. "I mean, um, yes, sir. I paged you about--"

"Are you _seriously_ out here, talking with your colleagues about an attending’s sex life rather than caring for the patient?"

" _No!_ I mean, I am. I mean, I'm not--they were. But--" she tries to interject.

"No wonder the woman is declining." He snatches the stethoscope from her neck before heading to the PACU around the corner.

_"Dr. Ramsey!"_ she scoffs. All the allure of his handsome looks that left her breathless last week--and a few moments ago--quickly flee as his pretentious, God-complex demeanor discredits any likeability.

"Let's go, _nurse_ \--" he irritably beckons with a whistle as if calling a dog home.

_Does he seriously not recognize me?_

_"Emily."_ She sasses, putting her hands on her hips as her own face falls into disgust. "I'm not just any other _'incompetent' nurse, Dr. Ramsey._ I have a name."

He halts in his tracks, spinning on his heels to glare at her; but the sparkle in her baby blues behind her thin-framed glasses triggers an avalanche of memories as his cheeks begin to flush

> He makes himself comfortable on the barstool before extending his hand to shake hers.

> "Ethan." He grins with confidence.

> She smiles brightly as she shakes his hand. He is easily captivated by her twinkling eyes, a sight he promised he would never forget.

> " _'Ethan.'_ Pleasure to meet you. My name is--"

Dr. Ramsey jolts from the memory, the memory quickly fading with his grin.

_"Emily."_ He nods. He quickly turns his back on her, begging silently for his nerves to relax.

##  **************

"Mr. Beauregard--" Ethan extends his hand to shake Megan's husband's hand.

"Brian. Please call me Brian. Anyone fixing my wife gets to call me by my first name." The young dad offers a cordial smile as he grasps the doctor's hand. "Besides, Mr. Beauregard is my father, and that fat bastard has been in the ground for twelve years now."

Emily shares a humored glance with Ethan before she quickly averts her attention and covers her grin.

"Of course, Brian. My name is Dr. Ethan Ramsey, and I'm the lead physician on the diagnostics team here at Edenbrook."

Emily feels her eyes rolling as she hears the pompous fluctuation of his voice when he says words, like "doctor" and "diagnostics team".

" _'Diagnostics?'_ So… what kind of doctor are you?" Brian's eyebrows knit with worry as his eyes dart back and forth between the two healthcare providers.

Ethan holds his head high, becoming even more dignified and serious. "I'm a diagnostician."

"Excuse me, doctor, but aren't _all_ medical doctors diagnosticians?"

The attending's strong jaw stiffens as he glares at Emily snickering in the corner, making herself appear busy in the patient's chart. He clears his throat as he focuses back on Mr. Beauregard.

"Sir, I assure you that I am more than just any medical doctor--"

"In what? An alternate universe? You think you're _House_ now?" His words lace with sarcasm, but Ethan is far from tickled.

_"Mr. Beauregard--"_ he hisses.

"Um, Brian, if I may interrupt," her voice sings with kindness and compassion as the budding argument melts. "Today, Dr. Ramsey is the intensivist on-call, someone Dr. Livingston and the anesthesia team desperately need in helping your wife get better. He is highly qualified, highly capable, and I feel--" she turns to give him an endearing, professional nod only to be captivated by him, his admiration already fixed on her. Her breathing quickens as he relaxes towards her. His cheeks flush when her eyes flicker back to his mouth, his teeth tugging on his bottom lip. Her vision blurs.

> The joint is loud and bustling; however, the word exchange between Emily and Ethan falls silent after their initial interaction. His eyes linger on her; she turns her attention back to the televised football game. Her simple mannerisms of nibbling on pretzels and tapping her unpolished finger to the jukebox charm him as he watches her intently.

> "So, um," he starts while grabbing a handful of peanuts. "Who's winning?"

> "Do you see who's playing?" She jokes, taking a quick swig of her drink. She chuckles under her breath, leaning closer to him as she points at the television. "It's the 'Boys versus the Pats; who do you _think_ is winning?"

> "So, you're a Pats' fan?"

> "Not exactly," She laughs.

> "Don't tell me your rooting for Dallas?"

> She meets his eyes again, blushing. "Born and raised in the church of Jerry Jones." She steals a peanut from his hand, popping it into her mouth.

> "And you?"

> "I'm more of a basketball guy."

> "Oh! Celtics fan?"

> "Knicks, actually. My dad--" there's a slight sadness in his voice as he looks down at his hands. "He was a fan," he shrugs, "and it just stuck." He cordially smiles, tossing a few peanuts in his mouth to silence himself.

> A pensive silence falls between them again. He glues himself to the tv; his thoughts collect somewhere else. She rests on her elbow, observing him carefully before she breaks the stillness.

> "See?" She steals another peanut from his grasp.

> He chuckles, turning his attention back to her. "See what?"

> "Loyalty. You don't give up on your team either." She pops the nut in her mouth, turning back to the game. "Even when they do suck."

> She flickers her attention to him to see if she's broken the seriousness; to her surprise, he's actually showing off his pearly whites with a smile that reaches his brilliant eyes. Their eyes remain locked on each other for the last half of the game as they pick at each other and share various stories of their childhood.

> The connection thrills them both. Her sincerity and kindness is comforting, touching him deeply in a way he craved. Her laugh and encouragement is warm and welcoming, like stepping inside a sanctuary from a harsh winter storm.

> The bond she is making with Ethan is refreshing, giving her the clarity she desires, that she has been searching for since she moved to Boston. It's like she had been treading in flood waters, but he offered her a life saver. The infatuation comforts her--and terrifies her. Every moment with him is pleasurable--and painful. She knows that at the end of the day, this could end in heartbreak. It would. One way or another.

_"Emily?"_ Brian Beauregard clears his throat. _"'You feel…?'"_

_"He's perfect."_

The clamor of her dropped pen against the tiled floor startles her. Emily wiggles her head, fluttering her lashes as if to wake herself from her unexpected daydream as she attempts to save the conversation.

"Um, that is, um, he's the perfect doctor for your wife's case. Um--to diagnose her so we can treat her appropriately." She flashes a crooked smile, silently begging that neither man noticed stammering. "Brian, can I grab you some coffee while you talk with the doctor?"

Brian brightens, nodding as he takes a seat while taking his wife's hand.

Emily sneaks out of the room, unaware of Ethan's eyes tracking her movement through the door. Once out of sight, she leans her back against the hallway wall; she looks up at the ceiling as she catches her breath.

_Damnit, Ramsey…_

She wants to hate him. So badly. Working with him is awkward; he has a terrible, cocky attitude. The way he treats nurses is disgusting--she can't fathom how he treats his own staff of doctors, let alone the interns and residents.

But still, when he looks at her, it wasn't _just_ a glance; it wasn't _just_ a nod. It was--it is something else.

##  **************

After delivering Mr. Beauregard's coffee, Emily retreats to a nearby cubby with a computer to chart, allowing for Dr. Ramsey to continue his assessment with the patient and his interview with her husband.

_Still tachycardic. No change in fever. And now belligerently agitated when not sedated. Think, Emily, think._

She clicks through physician notes, her list of home medications as well as the medications prescribed and given in the hospital. Old imaging results and past diagnoses reveal no new information. Megan Beauregard was a health 28-year-old, even during her very uneventful first pregnancy.

The sudden chill of the bell of her stethoscope taps against her neck. But, before she can whirl around, she knows it's him. His presence, like an impending summer shower, is refreshingly eerie with comforting warm winds. As he slithers the rest of the instrument onto her shoulders, Emily feels his warm breath on her skin. And she reminds herself to breathe.

_"Click here."_ His whisper is dark and alluring. He hovers intimately over Emily with one hand on the desk, the other on the back of her chair. Following his order, she clicks on the 'Lab' tab. He clicks his tongue, gently drumming his finger tips as he reads through the information. She tries to act like she doesn't notice. But, temptation gets the best of her as she nonchalantly turns towards the attending physician, pretending to fidget with the back of her hair. But the sudden realization that her face is mere inches from his mouth causes her to swallow thickly into a daydream.

> "Reggie," Ethan knocks his knuckles on the bar, calling to his long-time friend and bartender. "Another round, please. And, uh--" He looks inquisitively back at Emily with curled lips.

> "Oh! Um--" she stutters. "Sure, I, um--"

> "Another Diet Coke and rum, little lady?"

> Emily smiles brightly as she looks down at her hands, nodding her head.

> "That would be nice. Thanks, Reg."

> Ethan takes a sip of his whiskey neat, his eyes glued to the beautiful blonde as she gently stirs her new drink.

> "So, um… the Diet Coke will kill you, y'know?"

> She stops fidgeting with her straw and chuckles. "Oh? Is that right?" She raises an eyebrow, tossing her fingers through her waves. She turns her body towards his, trying to hide her grin as she leans closer to him. "So what? Are you a doctor or something?"

> Ethan's cheeks burn red, as he downs his drink in one swallow.

> _"Maybe."_ He bites his lower lip as he stares at hers.

_"Damnit!"_ Ethan slams his fist on the desk, stunning Emily from her daze. She quickly averts her eyes, hoping that maybe he didn't notice that she was staring at him. She calms down her breathing, turning her head away from him as she waits for the redness to subside from her cheeks.

Ethan grabs a nearby stool and sits next to her. Pulling out a legal pad, he attends to his scribbled notes to help him think.

"So no chorio?"

"No, sir."

"Are you _sure_?"

A mild scoff escapes her lips. "Fairly certain, but we sent cultures. Just in case."

"Blood and placenta?" His words drip with chastisement, as if he is trying to catch her in a mistake.

" _What_? Like we're _morons_? _Of course._ "

Ethan turns to her, raising an eyebrow. A corner of his mouth curls as her fight intrigues him.

"And baby?"

"Vital signs stable, just stunned at delivery. Sent for transitioning, but otherwise doing well."

"Did anesthesia suggest anything about malignant hyperthermia?"

"Dantrolene was given, biopsy sent. But, still no response"

"EKG?"

"Sinus tachy."

"Bleeding?"

"Normal."

"Uterus?"

"Normal."

"And just a low-transverse incision?"

"Yes, sir. Clean, dry and intact."

They suddenly stumble into stillness as they discover how painfully close they are to each other. Ethan glances down at Emily's lips as his mouth begins to part; Emily stares at his chiseled visage like a deer in the headlights as her breathing catches in her throat. But, as soon as the moment came, it vanishes. Ethan coughs, clearing his throat as he turns back to his notepad. Emily stands up from her chair, preparing to retreat to the patient's side.

_"Emily?"_

Hearing him say her name enchants her--and petrifies her. Her heart begins to race as she lifts her head towards him.

"Y-yes, sir? Um, Dr. Ramsey?"

"How fresh are these labs?"

She shrugs. "I drew them about 30 minutes into recovery." She looks at her watch. "Almost 3 hours ago."

"Repeat them. STAT."

"Yes, sir."

##  *************

"Emily, will it bother you if I play my wife's favorite music?"

The nurse warms to the questions as she tightens the blue tourniquet around the new mother's clammy arm.

"Not at all, Brian," she smiles. "I think we could all use some positive vibes in this room right now."

As the vials fill up with rich, dark fluid, she recognizes the familiar twang of Luke Combs.

"I used to sing this song to Megan all the time when we were dating. It would come on the radio, and I'd grab her hand and make her dance with me." He grips his bride's hand tightly as he chuckles back tears. "Even last week, it came on in the grocery story, and I made her dance with me. She was so embarrassed."

Brian begins to softly sing along to the country love ballad, tears forming in his eyes. Emily places a tender hand on his shoulder as he wipes his cheeks with his sleeve.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be such a sissy."

"No, sir. You're not being a sissy. You love her. And you're scared."

“Miss Emily, I can’t--I can’t do life without my Megan--”

“And you won’t, Brian.” She squeezes his shoulder, making him look at her. She offers him an empathic smile. “We are going to figure this out.” She passes him a few tissues. 

Emily returns to the specimens she has collected. The song continues to play softly as she hums along, labeling her specimens carefully.

> _“...But just your sight had my heart stormin'_
> 
> _The moon went hiding_
> 
> _Stars quit shining_
> 
> _Rain was dropping_
> 
> _T_ _hunder 'n lightning_
> 
> _You wrecked my whole world when you came_
> 
> _And hit me like a hurricane...”_

Emily abruptly stops. She slowly turns to look at her patient. After a moment of silent observation, she gently palpates her head and neck. An alarm goes off, indicating an increase in the patient’s heart rate; but, it quickly silences when she finishes touching her neck.

Her eyes grow wide as her mouth drops open.

"I'll be right back, sir."

##  **************

Lacing his fingers together, Ethan rests his hands behind his head as he leans back in the PACU desk chair. He closes his exhausted eyes as he hypnotically rocks the chair with his feet. But although he appears asleep, his brain is still working, still thinking, still discerning about what could possibly be causing this patient's sudden fever, diaphoresis and tachycardia. And about Emily.

_"Excuse me, Dr. Ramsey?"_

He opens one eye, but quickly shuts it.

"Let me guess. You missed."

" _'Missed?'_ " Emily is perplexed by his words, but quickly realizes what he meant: _he thinks I missed her vein and wasn't able to draw her blood_. "Um, no, sir. I'm not an intern."

With her biting words, he chuckles, smiling widely. But, still his eyes remain closed.

"What do you want?"

"Sir, um, what if--what if it's her thyroid? It feels like it may be larger than normal. And--and when I touched it, she, like, reacted to it. Her heartrate that is."

A painful silence falls between them.

_"Really, nurse?"_ He condescendingly laughs at her. "Send the ordered labs. Leave the thinking to me."

She sighs. She sees fiery red as she feels her palms begin to sweat. With her gnawing intuition and burning anger, she insists on sharing her newfound theory.

" _Dr. Ramsey, please._ Just hear me out. I know it's routine and we test every women at the beginning of their pregnancy for thyroid issues--"

"And Megan's were normal. _Drop it_."

"But sir, what if it developed later in her pregnancy? We never retest them unless they show symptoms--which she never had. But, what if? What if she was asymptomatic? And--and the surgery instigated a thyroid storm?"

He sits up, staring intently into her concerned eyes. He raises an eyebrow.

"You think this woman, _this healthy woman_ , with no history of thyroid disease--no family history of thyroid disease at that--is in the middle of a surgically-induced thyroid storm?"

It even sounded ridiculous to her, but she unashamedly nods.

He exhales a long, drawn-out sigh, visibly irritated as he rakes his fingers over his tired face.

"Do you know what kind of odds we're talking about here? Do you have _any_ idea?" He stands up from his chair, approaching the nurse with a cocky stride. "A thyroid storm is rare enough. Send the labs. Don't bother me about this again."

_“But Ethan?”_

A flash of compassion blitzes through his eyes hearing his name on her tender lips. He quickly stands up before he takes it to heart.

“I said, _‘drop it.’“_ he snarls.

She slowly nods, refusing to match his gaze. She flees the room, praying that not one angry tear falls.

After sending the drawn blood, she rests her back against the hallway wall outside of the PACU. The physical and emotional fatigue threatens to crash over her body. She takes a few deep, cleansing breaths. She has dealt with her share of hateful physicians, but none like Dr. Ramsey. And maybe her view is clouded by their night together at the bar; but still, she is angry and frustrated. She wasn’t expecting special treatment; however, equal respect would’ve been nice.

All of a sudden, she sees Ethan bound outside the PACU door, looking feverishly down the hallway for something, possibly someone. She quickly wipes away her tears as he locks his pursuit on her. 

He notices the pink in her face, the wetness in her eyes. And it tugs heavily on his heartstrings. He knows he acted cruel towards her. But, he’s also a highly-skilled attending physician; his job is to care for the patient, not to care about a nurse’s feelings. 

But, this isn’t just any nurse.

He grabs her shoulders tenderly, but her eyes remain fixed to the floor. Ethan fights his desire to comfort her physically, remaining at a loss for words.

He gently places his finger under her chin, lifting her gaze to his.

"Okay,” he whispers, “Let’s see if Megan is against all odds.”

Realizing how painfully close he is to her face, he turns cold again and walks back towards the PACU.

Emily braces herself against the wall again, letting out a giant exhale. Distantly staring across the hall, she begins to grin, snickering to herself in disbelief of what just happened.

_"Oh, and nurse?"_

She quickly straightens up to his voice.

_"Sir?"_

"Don't get your hopes up."

##  **************

The turbulent trickle of fluid pouring into a plastic basin interrupts the sterile silence of the PACU room as Emily cautiously empties her patient's catheter bag. Mr. Beauregard lightly snores in the bedside chair, holding tight to his wife's hand. But still, another pair of eyes track her every movement.

"So," Ethan clears his throat, "have you seen a thyroid storm before?" Sarcasm drips from his words as he leans back in the desk chair at the computer. He hopes she is wrong--no, he knows she is wrong. 

She pretends not to hear his questions as she finishes her patient care duties. She changes out Mrs. Beauregard's blanket with a fresh new one before turning out the interrogating, overhead light to allow her to sleep.

"I'm sorry." She fakes an inquisitive thoughtful-look on her face. "Did you say something, _doctor_?"

_“Wow,”_ he mouths, hiding under an irritated chuckle. "Thyroid storm. Have you seen it?"

_"Have you?"_ she bites back at his disparaging question.

"A few cases, yes. How about--"

Emily reaches across his lap to grab her coffee from next to the computer monitor, interrupting his thought. Ethan closes his eyes as he stiffens his lip.

"Then you know what it looks like, _right_?" She takes a sip of her cold coffee as she leans against the doorway.

" _Of course_ , I know what it looks like--"

"Then you know I could be very right--"

"Or you could be _very_ wrong--" he raises his voice.

She scoffs as she raises her voice. "Or _you_ could be _very_ wrong." She glares at him as he rests his elbows on his knees, running his fingers through his hair.

"And, no," she softens her voice as she crosses her arms. "I've never seen it before."

He locks his powder blues into hers. He stands up and slowly strolls closer to her. He leans against a column opposite to her. He crosses his arms and lets out a sigh.

"Then why are you so sure?"

She quietly shrugs as the room turns quietly cold.

"Haven't you ever just--" she cuts into the stillness, her face brightening, "--had a feeling?"

Ethan raises an eyebrow. _"A feeling?"_

"Yes," she chuckles. "A feeling, deep inside that screams that something this time is different?"

"I think you've been watching too many Hallmark movies," he dismisses.

"I'm serious! In medicine, we practice based on evidence, based on studies, based on percentages of successes versus failures." She steps closer to him. "So, how does something even become an odd--even just a small one? We have diseases that were once a guaranteed death-wish; but now we have small chances of survival, small odds. _How?_ "

Ethan puts a finger to his mouth, holding his chin as he considers her words.

"Someone who had a feeling," she continues, "someone who dared to perform one more test, one more treatment, one more scan. Someone who said, 'What we're doing now isn't good enough.'"

He soaks in her words. He raises his eyebrows in realization at the point she is making. Although it's poor practice to base someone's life on fickle thoughts, he admires her passion. His fixates on her as she draws closer.

"Haven't you ever had a feeling like that? Like you're touching a life forever?" She sighs, looking down at their feet. _"Do you even feel?"_ she mutters.

_"Emily, I’m--I’m so sorry."_

Without thinking, he combs tired wisps of hair behind her ear. His mention of her name hangs in the air as they see that night playback in each other's eyes.

> She tucks her coolly crossed legs between his bouncing knees as the hem of her romper exposes more of her thigh. He drags his teeth across his bottom lip as he pushes his hair back. His breathing labors, smoldering at the new view. 

> "So," she lowers her voice. "If this," she nods at her drink, "Diet Coke tries to kill me, I'll be safe in your arms then?"

> _"Mhmm."_ His gaze doesn't break from her mouth as he brushes his knee against hers.

> The room threatens to blink to black as Emily fumbles for her drink. Fully enthralled with his eyes, she can't tear away. She wraps her delicate fingers around the straw, rubbing along it's length, pushing down first, then back up again. She teases the straw into her mouth with her tongue. Ethan shifts in his barstool, hiding his physical desire for her as she begins to pull swallows from her drink, finishing it quickly as she sets the glass on the bar.

> She casually slides her foot up and down his leg; he reaches for her glass of melting ice cubes, taking a quick swig of the remnants before returning his attention to her.

> Emily chuckles curiously at the sight, cocking her head and pressing her tongue into her cheek.

> "Not dead yet--" she playfully walks her fingers up his arms. Her eyes blaze into his as her voice turns airy: _"--Doctor."_

> He grabs her traveling hand, pulling himself closer.

> _"Mmm… good."_ He lustfully growls.

> Before she could think, Ethan's lips meet hers. Emily's eyes flutter close as she loses her inhibitions. She presses her lips back softly into his as she lightly presses her hand to his chest. His fingers skillfully comb through her hair to cradle the nape of her neck, pulling her closer into him.

> The massage of his lips against her supple pout melts her into him as her fingertips graze across the thick stubble of his chin. The fast rumble of his heart excites her senses as she teases his mouth with the tip of her tongue.

> He grins, coaxing her mouth open with his. He gently tastes her upper lip, softly exhaling a moan against her. He rests his hand on her exposed upper leg, playfully tickling her with delicate squeezes.

> She tears away for a moment as she looks into the ocean of his eyes, becoming lost in their depths.

> _"Whoa,"_ she exhales.

> _"Yeah,"_ he whispers under his breath. A smile begins to sparkle across his face as he thirsts for another taste.

> He pushes his lips back into hers, this time with more fervor as she tenderly strokes his cheek. His tongue searches deeper into the kiss, tempting and teasing her own to dance. His hand begins to wander, pushing up her shorts until she feels his tips stroking her bare curves.

> She stops, gasping for air as she lets go.

> "I'm sorry," Ethan raises his hands in surrender. "Was that--was that too far?"

> "Oh, no! No, I just--" Emily finds herself at a loss for words as she pulls her romper shorts down.

> "I'm sorry, Emily. I thought we were--I mean, I thought you were--"

> "We were--are! I mean we are," she stammers in a panic. "I just--I don't--"

> He rests his hands on her shoulders as he steals another kiss.

> "Just guessing here--" he grabs her hand as he lowers his voice. "It's been a while for me, too. I'm really not the type to hit on a girl in a bar, but there's just something about you and, um--" He offers a small grin as his eyes twinkle. "--here I am. Here we are. And--" he quickly exhales. "--I'm going to kiss you again." His smile brightens even bigger. "And hopefully again. And again. And--"

> He leans in, kissing her fervidly. He sweetly nibbles to her jawline and back to her ear.

> She grins, but the smile doesn't reach her eyes as she cautiously surveys the people in the room.

> "How about this?" he whispers huskily in her ear. "Let's get out of here."

> Emily is stunned by his invitation. The world blurs into a spin of sirens and colors. This was not her typical cup of tea; she'd given up the lifestyle of random strangers in bars. And she wasn't in a place to be dating right now.

> But, Ethan. Ethan seems different. She knows he is different. She's only known him for a few hours, but his kindness, his attentiveness, not to mention his handsomely toned body, added to the allure of starting something new.

> "Just the two of us." he continues. "No pressure. Just--" he exhales, his thumb rubbing the back of her hands as if to plead with her. "Two strangers. Just getting to know each other better. Alone. What do you say?"

There's a brisk knock on the PACU door; Emily quickly retreats from Ethan, checking on the patient's monitors.

_"Emily--?"_ the unit secretary opens the door to the recovery area, but quickly stops in her tracks. _"Oh! Dr. Ramsey! I--I'm so sorry to interrupt! I--"_

"What is it?" He pinches between his eyes with irritation in his voice.

_"Lab's on the phone. Um, line 4."_

##  **************

"This is Dr. Ramsey…" he answers on the PACU phone. "Yes, I'm the one who put the orders in… I'm--excuse me? I'm the doctor… No, you don't need to speak to a supervisor--No! I can assure you that you can tell me…"

Humored by this side of the conversation, Emily turns around to watch his expression. She chews on her lip as she picks at her thumb nail while the exchange continues.

"… really… Really? How certain are you of these values?" Concern grows in his voice as he turns his attention to the nurse. His eyebrows furrow as a smirk grows on his face. He scoffs out a chuckle as he flashes a glance at Emily. He turns away shaking his head. _"I figured_ ," he mumbles.

_Crap. Not her thyroid._

Emily grows painfully self-conscious as she pushes up her glasses. No doubt he's about to blame her for the test results. No doubt he's going to ridicule her for guessing--for even asking to test for something based on a intuition. Her stomach churns as she tunes out his voice. She swallows back her tears as her nerves ache from the humiliation--a feeling that was becoming all too familiar when it came to Ethan Ramsey.

> "Okay." She nods, answering his proposition. "I, um--" she giggles as she looks around the room for the bathroom. "I'll be right back." 

> She intimately places her hand on his thigh, gracefully meeting his grin with her plump pout. She saunters to the ladies' room, casting several seductive glances back at him before she disappears from view.

> She stares blankly at her reflection in the mirror as she pumps on another coat of mascara. She primps her hair before touching up her pink lipgloss. Wandering aimlessly in her thoughts, she subtly overhears a couple of tipsy women talking between the bathroom stall doors.

> _"Girl, you should--you should just go for it. He's obvi into you, and you're into him. It's been that way since you two met. Shit, you two have already shacked up before. Actually, several times--" she giggles._

> _"How many times do I have to tell you? I can't do that--he's an attending! I'm just an intern--and I worked my ass off for that. I don't want anyone thinking I slept my way to the top of the program."_

> With the mention of medical staff and juicy gossip, Emily eavesdrops a little more closely.

> _"Girl! No one is going to think that! Plus, who has to know? We're talking about fucking Ethan Ramsey here--"_

> Emily freezes, as she ponders their words.

> _Ethan? No way. Oh God, surely they are talking about a different Ethan… right? He's been with me all night,_

> _"He does have great head of hair and a great ass--"_

> _"Sienna!_ " the women inside the stall squeals.

> " _But those dreamboat blue eyes--"_

> _No way. No fucking way. It's not the same Ethan. It can't be. It's not._

> _"I just need to get him away from the blonde bimbo out there--"_

> _"Danny said that she's a nurse with the vagina squad--"_

> _Fuck me! He really is a doctor? A fucking attending at that? And he's fucking involved? With--with someone else? '_ It's been a while for me _' my ass!_

> Suddenly she hears the stall doors unlocking; Emily chaotically searches for a place to hide, finally finding solace in the handicap stall. Her eyes pin-prick with the threat of tears. She covers her mouth, stifling the hitch in her breathing as she calms down her emotions and thoughts.

> She listens intently. The women exit the restroom after washing their hands, their jovial giggles melting together. Emily steps out of the stall, tiptoeing to the washroom door. She gingerly cracks it open to peer out to survey the closing bar, hoping that Ethan would be waiting for her.

> She watches the young, dark-haired intern hug Ethan. She watches her talk with him, joke with him, touch him. She watches her guide him by the hand through the bar and out the door.

> Emily hopes he turns back to look for her.

> But he doesn't.

_"Nurse!"_

She cautiously approaches Dr. Ramsey. "Yes, sir?"

"Hydrocortisone and esmolol _STAT_. Let's get her prepared for ICU. They'll take care of the rest there. In the meantime, how do we get in touch with NICU to run tests on the baby?"

"I'm sorry." She curiously furrows her brows. "What--what's going on?"

He hands her his note pad with scribbled lab results.

He points at the values. "This is her T3 and T4. And here TGAb."

Emily gasps. "Those are almost three-times above normal!"

"Uh-huh. And look at this."

"She's barely producing any TSH." She covers her mouth in shock. "Oh my God. She's--she's going into a..."

Ethan smiles at her, nodding. "Get her transferred."

"Oh, and Emily--" he clears his throat. _"--nurse?"_

Emily beams in his direction.

"Good work. You just saved her life. And her baby's.”

##  **************

The door to the labor and delivery unit automatically locks behind her. A giant smile grows across Emily's face as she confidently struts down the long corridor. She feels heroic, like a militant warrior coming back from winning the war.

She takes off her scrub cap, undoing her messy bun to shake out her disheveled blonde waves. Suddenly a firm grip latches around her elbow, the bounce of her curls blinding her view.

_"Hey! What--?"_ She stumbles over her words and her feet as she jerks into an empty labor room.

Emily whips around to the sound of the door closing, only to find two smoldering eyes demanding her attention.

" _Dr. Ramsey!_ My God, you scared--"

Not letting go of her arm, he holds a finger to her lips. Her eyes thrillingly grow wide as they apprehensively stare into his handsomely chiseled face.

"Listen to me," he quietly growls at the cowering nurse. "I don't need your help. I don't need you to vouch for my reputation or my life's work--"

"I'm sorry?" She scoffs with a chuckle. "What are you even talking about? Where is this coming --?"

_"I'm Ethan fucking Ramsey! My name precedes me, damnit!"_

As she begins to twist against his grip, he let's go of her arm, lowering his gaze a few inches from hers.

"I don't need you doing my work." He throws his hands in the air. "Mrs. Beauregard would have been diagnosed in no time. By me. Not by you-- _by me!_ "

Emily's eyes begin to glaze over with tears; she is confused as why he was lecturing her. Did he not just tell her _'Good work'?_

_"Sir--?"_

_"I'm not done!"_ He grabs her shoulders, bringing her closer to his face. "I don't need you, nurse."

As tears begin to cascade down her cheeks, she pushes his arms away to make an exit. But, before she reaches the door, he snags her hand, pulling her back into his arms.

"Dr. Ramsey, please, just let me--"

"Look at me, Emily."

With the sound of her name in his mouth, she tempts fate and looks into his steel blue eyes. He carefully wipes the tear trenches from her cheeks with the back of his fingers as she quiets a sob.

"I don't need a lot of things, Emily."

He goes silent, pacing the floor as he drags his fingers through his tired locks. He suddenly grabs her by the shoulders again, his hands trembling against her.

"But you--there's something about you that is frustrating. Maddening." He cups her cheek. "Exhilarating. Your kindness. Your wit. Your beauty." He lets out a sigh as he touches his thumb to her bottom lip. "Your kiss."

He lets go of her, covering his mouth. "You cloud my judgment, and that makes me want to hate you. I do science-- _not feelings_."

'But I don't know what it is--" He rests his fingers under her chin, lifting her gaze back to his own. "But I have a feeling."

_"A feeling?"_ She smirks as she locks her eyes with his.

"Yes." His voice grows husky as he removes her glasses. _"About you."_

Finally feeding their lust for each, Ethan and Emily tumble into a tight embrace, their mouths meeting on impact. She slides her hands around his neck, her fingers combing into his dark, silky hair. She tenderly twirls his locks as she pulls him deeper into her hungry pout. 

His teeth tug on her lip as his hands sensually travel down her spine; his fingertips fidget with her scrub top, tickling her soft bare skin underneath her camisole. Her breath quickens. She lolls her head back, eliciting a hushed moan as he nips at her soft skin.

She helps him shrug off his white coat as he helps her onto a cabinet. She holds him tightly to her body as he continues to suckle on her neck. He unties the drawstring of her scrub pants as their tongues feast.

He pulls back for a moment, wresting his forehead against hers. His chest rises and falls eagerly.

"Do you trust me?"

As she innocently nods, he seals their lips breathlessly together. He plays with her waist band, plunging his hand in pursuit of her pleasure . Pushing her panties to the side, he finds her swelling clit.

Emily begins to moan, gasping for air as she grips the back of his collar. His fingers brush in tender circles as she carefully rocks her hips into his hand.

_"Oh, God--Ethan--"_ she groans with a strained whisper. Her lips press into his neck, nibbling up to his ear. _"Yes--"_ she exhales. _"Don't stop."_

Saturating his hand, he gingerly glides two fingers inside of her as his thumb skims rhythmically across her center. She rolls her head back, biting her bottom lip in pure ecstasy.

There's an abrupt knock on the door as the door handle turns.

Emily slides off of the counter; Ethan retreats into the unoccupied patient's bathroom.

_"Em?"_ The unit charge nurse freezes at the sight of a flushed, unkempt nurse in an unassigned patient room. _"Are you okay?"_

"Oh, um, yes, ma'am." She cordially smiles as she ties the draw string to her scrub pants.

"Hiding from--" the charge nurse clears her throat as she stares at Emily's pants. "--Ramsey?"

"Sorta." Emily fakes a laugh.

Slowly stepping back from the door, the charge nurse furrows her brow before shaking her head.

"Well, finish up with--" she motions at Emily's bottom. "--whatever you're doing and meet us out here for shift change."

"Yes, ma'am."

As soon as she closes the door, Ethan pops his head out of the bathroom, cautiously looking around the room. He locks eyes with Emily as they both die in laughter. She hands him his white coat as he caresses her pink cheek.

"I know this is out of order, but--" he chuckles under his breath. "May I have your number?"

"What number?"

He smiles curiously. "Your phone number."

Emily's face falls. _"Why?"_

_"'Why?'"_ He laughs. "Was it _that_ bad?"

Emily slaps her forehead. "No--no, it was unbelievable--I mean, not that I thought you wouldn't be, that is, if you were able to, you know, finish-- I mean, not that you can't." She exhales her nerves. "That's not what I meant."

He puts his arms around her. "Slow down." He kisses her forehead. "I just asked for your number. Is that okay? If I call you sometime?"

Emily anxiously bites her lip, slowly nodding her head. She punches her digits into his phone before he turns to leave the room.

"But--" she stops him. "What about the other girl? The intern?"

He turns back to her, raising an eyebrow. "What about the other guy?"

_"What?"_

He winks at her. "I'm joking." He hugs her, tucking her head under his chin. "Let's talk about that some other time. But for now," he kisses her head as he let's go of her. "There is no one else."

She offers him a courteous grin as her stomach begins to churn.

"I'll text you in a little bit."

##  **************

She sits alone on a worn, wooden bench in the ladies' locker room. Her co-workers have already ventured home after the hectic shift, but for Emily, she remains, lost in her thoughts. She silently pulls off her soiled blue scrubs, changing into a new set of Asics, a comfortable pair of black leggings and a borrowed oversized Tulane sweatshirt that smells like home.

She splashes her face with cold water, a last ditch effort to cleanse herself from the night. She stares blankly at her reflection in the mirror as she dabs her skin dry. Her phone chimes, echoing amongst the metal and tile. She knows that it's him; he'd already texted her two other times since ending her shift. But she isn't ready.

She brushes her fallen hair back into a messy bun as she grabs her travel toiletry bag. She pats lotion under her tired eyes, rubbing the excess in her hands. She drapes her charm bracelet over her wrist and clasps it. She applies a coat of lip balm on her lips as she pouts at her visage. She gazes back into her pouch as her heart begins to pound like a thunderous dark clouds. She quickly retreats to looking painfully back into her reflected eyes as droplets collect and threaten to downpour.

She flutters her eyes closed.

> After watching Ethan leave with the gorgeous brunette, she falls back into the bathroom, bracing herself against the sink. She stares at her reflection in the mirror. She watches the tears collect as her skin reddens from anger. She wipes off her lipgloss with a paper towel as she ridicules herself. Was she not pretty enough? Was she an easy target? How could she have been so stupid? To think she had a chance, an escape, with such a beautiful man? For thinking such a beautiful man would even consider her?

> Why was she looking anyway? Wasn't she happy? She knows better. Her reality didn't have room for Ethan.

> She gently dabs the wetness from her eyes before it can pour down her cheeks. She takes several cleansing breaths to calm herself from the heavy weight of her emotions. She thoughtfully washes her hands, rethinking through her actions of the evening, rethinking through that kiss.

> Grabbing a paper towel, she turns on her heels to leave the public restroom.

> She casually places her hand in her pocket. It's still there. It will always be there. The tiny cold metal teasingly dances between her warm fingers.

> She gasps for air.

> And the tears collect again.

Emily takes a few deep breaths as she slowly opens her sad blue eyes back to her reality. She looks back into her make-up bag. It's still there--until death do they part--it's always there.

She pulls out the 2.4-carat emerald-cut diamond ring. It's still perfectly gorgeous: it catches the light like a dream; it fits like a dream. The inner inscription he surprised her with is straight out of a fairy tale: _‘Forever’._

But, it's not her fairy tale. 

Somehow as she inspects it, the brilliance seems painfully bright; the gold seems awfully brassy. Like a prisoner being led to confinement, she slides her engagement ring back onto her finger.

Before she can leave the locker room, her phone rings.

Looking at the screen, she sighs.

"Hey, Robin, how was your business trip? … I missed you, too, baby…"

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Super-duper special thanks for my girl @shannonsaid for talking me through parts, pre-reading sections, deepening my plot with her own fic (aka the ending!), and overall being my cheerleader!
> 
> A/N: This is clearly an AU I created, but some doctors mentioned and Edenbrook Hospital are products of our friends over at Pixelberry!


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